Scrap Metal
by Carol
Summary: The Impala meets its maker and Dean takes it very, very hard


Scrap Metal

By Carol M.

Summary: The Impala bites the dust and Dean takes it very, very hard.

Spoilers: Up to My Bloody Valentine

Disclaimer: Don't own them, only love them

In any other circumstance, it would've been funny. A grown man crying over a car. It was just a bunch of metal…rubber…chrome…black paint. But not to Dean Winchester. To him, his beloved Impala was everything.

First and foremost, it was the one physical piece of his family that he had left. There wasn't exactly a Winchester family photo album floating around. It was just the car. The damn history. It had come before everything had gone to hell for the Winchester family. It had been John and Mary's, then just John's, then Dean's and for a very brief period Sam's and then Dean's again. It was as much a part of the family as their last name. It was their damn coat of arms.

The Impala was also the closest thing Dean had ever had to a home. The front seat was his bedroom, the seat cushion known just as intimately as he would've known his own bed, if he'd ever had one. He knew what every purr of the engine meant and what every bump in the road did to her. It also housed all of his worldly possessions, what little there was; his adored music collection that he utilized as a mental teddy bear, his clothes, all the weapons. The memories.

It was the one thing in Dean's crazy, screwed up life that he could count on, no matter what. Even if his father had just died, or his brother, or he had started the apolcapyse, or if he and Sam were fighting, or if Michael was telling him his so-called destiny. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, he took comfort in the fact that he had somewhere to go to lick his wounds. The roar of her engine would thrum with ease and power and no matter how screwed up and hopeless the situation seemed, he could almost believe that everything was going to be okay.

She centered him. Sammy might've been his heart, his dad might've been his hero, but the Impala was what made everything work. She was the glue that held him together. Behind the wheel in the driver's seat, Dean could accomplish anything. Nothing could touch him there. He was safe.

But now the Impala lay in a million flaming pieces, scattered across some nameless backwoods road. His fiber of being had been wiped out in a split second by the lightning bolt of a weather god. At least she hadn't died a wussy death. He was thankful for that at least.

But as Dean watched the car explode, he truly did feel a part of himself die. It was like his armor had been ripped away. He felt exposed and vulnerable. His center was gone.

He was left with the clothes on his back and the shotgun in his hand. He was thankful he'd been wearing his father's leather jacket at the time. At least he hadn't lost that. He knew they were all just things and that they didn't hold any real value, that they didn't mean anything. But still. He had so little to begin with. And he loved that damn car.

Dean bent down and picked up a flaming piece of cassette tape from the ground. Black Sabbath. A lump formed in his throat and hot tears welled up in his eyes.

Sam stepped up next to him and put a hand on his back. "Maybe Bobby can help you put her back together after the fire's gone out. There's gotta be a few parts to work with, right? I mean, you rebuilt her once, you can do it again."

Dean appreciated the lie. He did. He tried to smile, but his eyes dripped a few tears down his cheeks instead.

Sam patted him on the back, giving him a sympathetic look like his dog had died or something. God bless Sammy. He got it. He knew what the car had meant to him. "I'm sorry Dean."

Dean bit his lower lip, trying to stop himself from crying more. But this just…hurt. It was a bunch of metal. That's all it was and he knew it. But that metal meant everything to Dean.

He looked at his brother through tear-filled eyes, marveling that after everything they'd gone through in their lives, this was the thing that had truly emotionally toppled him in front of his little brother. He felt like such a bitch. But he couldn't help it.

"I just wish I could drive her one more time, you know, " he said pitifully.

Sam gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze. "I know."

That's All Folks


End file.
